


Close Enough

by LadidaSadia



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Frank Castle/Karen Page - Freeform, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6784531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadidaSadia/pseuds/LadidaSadia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted to continue, wanted to say more to push her away, to distance her from all of this, from him. He needed to hurt her, their exchange at the cabin wasn’t enough. He needed to hurt her so she would stop caring so much. That way he could move on and do his job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deal

Chapter 1: Deal

**Scene opens after Frank kills Schoonover**

Karen knelt there, frozen. Holding her arms tightly around her. She didn’t know why it hurt so much, why she didn’t expect it. She knew he had to kill him, for all of his involvement in the death of his family. But Frank wanted answers, and now with the Blacksmith dead, he would never really know. Maybe that wasn’t important to Frank, maybe for him he just wanted to get revenge, get rid of everyone involved in that night around the carousel. And maybe it was Karen that wanted answers. She wanted answers for Frank. So that she can continue to believe that what he was doing was right, that he had some reason behind his madness. 

But as she sat there on the street, in the cold night, she realized that he was a lone soldier, too engulfed in his own pain and grief to consider all of the consequences of his actions. She hoped that maybe there was a little part of Frank that would listen to her. She was the only one who believed him, who defended him, who didn’t look at him like a monster. Because of all of that, maybe he would have considered listening to her pleas in front of that shack, as Schoonover leaned against that tree.

But Frank had his own plans, and no one, not even Karen could change his mind. She didn’t have an effect on him, on his thoughts, on his actions. He was in this alone, and it broke her heart.

It seemed like hours had passed as Karen sat there on the street. She knew she should get up and leave, get away from all of this. But then she realized that her car was totaled. She had no way out. She had to wait.

Eventually, she heard slow, heavy footsteps behind her. She wasn’t afraid, she knew it was Frank.

“You’re still here,” he said in his low gravelly voice. She couldn’t tell if there was a hint of surprise or frustration in his voice. But she didn’t care because she was left alone there to wait.

“You crashed my car. I couldn’t leave,” Karen replied flatly, as if it was an afterthought. 

Frank could sense an icy bitterness, and it wasn’t from the winter night. He slowly approached Karen’s kneeling body and gently grabbed her arm and shoulders to help her up. She didn’t resist and slowly rose to stand next to him without looking at him. 

Frank turned to Karen, “I’m sorry about your car, I’ll take care of it.” She was still looking forward but nodded. “Let me drive you back to the city. I’ll drop you off…somewhere.” Frank said softly, feeling guilty that he couldn’t just take her back to her apartment. He had to be discreet, he couldn’t be seen. But he needed to make sure she was safe.

Frank hesitantly placed his hand on Karen’s elbow to lead her towards his truck but she slightly pulled away, not in an obvious angry way, but in a way that showed Frank that she was not okay, that something was still wrong.

They slowly walked to the truck, Frank to the driver’s side and Karen to the passenger’s side. They both climbed in and Frank started the car. They drove in silence for a while, with Frank shifting his eyes over to Karen every few minutes to sense any kind of response from her. But she just stared out the window, cradling her injured arm.

He needed to break the silence, he knew that she probably wanted to ask him a million questions. But the fact that she wasn’t was making him feel very uneasy, like she was shutting him out. Just like he shut the cabin door on her.

“How is your arm?” he asked. She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice breaking through the silence that was between them. “It’s fine, nothing broken” she replied, still looking out the window, with that same flat voice that seemed to pierce Frank right in his chest. 

They continued to drive for a few more minutes until Frank couldn’t stand the silence anymore, not from Karen. “Listen, I did what I had to do. Schoonover was the blacksmith. I needed to get rid of him. And he was going to kill you.” Anger was rising in Frank’s voice as he spoke, but he was trying to control it. He felt stupid for having to defend his actions. “I don’t have to justify my actions just so you can feel better. You know what I am and you shouldn’t get so god damn worked up by what I do.” He wanted to continue, wanted to say more to push her away, to distance her from all of this, from him. He needed to hurt her, their exchange at the cabin wasn’t enough. He needed to hurt her so she would stop caring so much. That way he could move on and do his job. 

For the first time during the whole drive, Karen turned to face Frank. It caught him off guard (he hated that.) He didn’t expect her to look at him directly. 

“I know why you did it Frank,” Karen said quietly, her voice a little raspy from her lack of use for the past hour or so. “I just thought you wanted answers.” She paused. “And I thought I could help.” She said it so gently, her voice sad and helpless. Like she was disappointed in herself, like she failed. Her eyes were on him, but he had to turn away. First to keep his eyes on the road, but more importantly so he couldn’t see the pain in her eyes. She turned her face back to the window. She had nothing else left to say.

He was angry at himself. He hated the fact that her feelings could have such an effect on him. He couldn’t be distracted by her concern, so he reacted in the only way he could. With anger, to cover up his own grief.

“Why are you trying to help?!” he growled. Karen’s body tensed up. The tension in the car immediately peaked as Karen turned towards Frank. “I don’t need your help. You think you have me all figured out, like I’m some broken person who can just be pieced together by talking things through and finding answers. My answers are in killing the people who hurt my family. I find my answers when they are dead. You keep trying to kid yourself by thinking I’m not a monster. But I am, and that’s not going to change. No matter how hard you try to rationalize what I do, I’m still going to take out every one of those scumbags in this city and I’m going to enjoy it.” Frank was breathing heavily by the time he was done speaking, his chest heaving and his jaw clenched to maintain some kind of control. From the corner of his eye he could see Karen looking at him. The same sad eyes and something else that he couldn’t quite place. Like she was thinking about every single word he said, analyzing every angry and curt syllable.

“If you’re a monster, then I’m a monster too,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap. The flatness in her voice was gone, replaced by shame and guilt. “Fisk’s assistant…Wesley. I killed him. I shot him 7 times.” She lifted her head and stared straight into the dark road ahead. She felt a weight slightly lift off of her shoulders as a wave of remorse and fear washed over her. Now someone else knew her secret.

Frank was dumbstruck. Her first response, calling herself a monster almost made him scoff. Until she continued, and revealed her involvement with Wilson Fisk. Suddenly everything Karen did started to make sense. Why she was trying to help Frank, why she was always on his side, why she wanted people to know the truth about him. She saw herself in him. And if she could find some good in him, maybe she could convince herself that she was still good.

“Does Fisk know you killed Wesley?” He should’ve responded with some reassurance, with some comfort that no, she was not a monster. That she was still good, that she did the right thing. But Frank’s first thought was Fisk getting revenge for the death of one of the only people close to him. And the thought of Fisk getting revenge on Karen made Frank’s insides turn into knots.

“No…not yet” Karen knew what would happen if Fisk found out. Her nightmares gave her just a hint of what he was capable of doing.

“What happened?” Frank asked, unable to hide the concern in his voice.

Karen turned her head away from the road and towards Frank. He was still looking straight ahead but he could feel her eyes bore into him.

“Tell me about Kandahar and I’ll tell you about Wesley.” 

She said it with so much conviction and precision that Frank instantly realized that she had planned this. She had worked him the whole car ride, made him practically beg for her to speak to him again, to break the unsettling silence. And now she got what she wanted. She would let him in, but only if he returned the favor.

“Shit” Frank said under his breath. And Karen knew that she got through to him. That she won. He was never dead to her, she just needed to shake him up. She needed him to put his guard down. And the only way he was going to do that was if she shut him out too.

They had arrived a few blocks away from Karen’s apartment. Frank stopped the truck and finally looked at Karen. “I have some stuff to take care of. You should get off here.” He said gruffly. “But we have a deal now. You tell me, I’ll tell you. No going back.”

For the first time the whole night, something flashed in Karen’s eyes. Maybe it was excitement or intrigue, or a mix of dread and regret. But it was not pain or sadness, and even though Frank didn’t want to admit it to himself, he was relieved. “Deal” Karen said. She got out of the truck and crossed the street to get to the sidewalk her apt was on. Frank watched her until she made it safely to her building’s front door. As she unlocked the door, she turned back and looked at Frank. He couldn’t distinguish her facial expression because she was too far away. But her eyes lingered on him for a while before she turned back and headed inside. 

Frank’s head was spinning with the night’s events. Karen going to Schoonover, Schoonover almost killing Karen, Frank killing Schoonover, Karen hating Frank, Karen killing Wesley, Frank giving in and agreeing to tell her about Kandahar. How did he get into this mess? And why was Karen wrapped up in all of it? He shook it off, knowing he had other matters to deal with. But before driving off, he glanced over to Karen’s door, and pictured her again, looking back at him.


	2. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Yakuza hostage situation, Karen finally goes back to her apartment, only to be surprised by a visitor waiting for her.
> 
> With some cleaning up and coffee, Karen's heavy confession finally has a place to rest.
> 
> (Slow burn, I'm getting there...)

***Fast forward to Karen getting kidnapped, Daredevil rescuing her and the other hostages. Daredevil touching Karen’s face blah bah blah (she probably realizes its Matt, oh well. She’s got Frank on the brain)

Scene where Elektra is killed and Daredevil goes to attack the Yakuza dude, the Punisher shoots down the guys who are about to attack Daredevil from behind (oh NOW Daredevil is okay with the Punisher killing people)

And then, scene pans out to Karen looking up at the buildings and seeing Frank. He looks down at her :swoon:***

***Let’s pretend Karen is taken to the police station after the whole hostage incident. She is questioned and is finally released. The police offer her a ride home. She gets off a few blocks from her apt because she catches a quick glimpse of a black figure with a hat on standing a few feet from her building’s front door. She reassures the police that she’s fine. She walks slowly to her building so that the police car can drive off***

Karen slowly walks towards her apt. She quickly glances around to make sure no one is watching. As she nears her front door, the figure slowly approaches her, the same heavy-footed, purposeful gait that she’s become familiar with.

“What are you doing here? Someone might see!” Karen harshly whispers. She hopes her anger hides her excitement at seeing Frank.

“Everyone thinks I’m dead. I’m safe for now” Frank replies, like he has no concern that just one day ago the whole NYC police force was after him.

“Your face is still all over the papers. Someone could still recognize you and get suspicious” she states through gritted teeth as she fumbles through her purse for the keys to her building door.

“You were taken hostage, yeah? Are you okay?” Frank didn’t want to argue about his presence. He got straight to the point.

Karen’s mind quickly relished the thought of Frank being worried about her, checking in even after everything. But she soon brought herself back to reality, the fact that the Punisher was talking to her outside of her building was definitely a stupid move. She shoved her door open and grabbed Frank’s arm, surprised that she was able to move him forward, even if just a bit. “Just come inside before anyone sees.”

Frank obliged, somewhat surprised at the force she used against him, and more surprised that he obliged. But she was right, he was being irresponsible. He thought he could be a little reckless now that everyone thought he was dead. But he still had work to do and he needed to use his supposed death to his advantage. 

Karen quickly made her way up the staircase with Frank following closely behind her. 

The path was familiar to him. He had gone up this staircase once before, right before he knocked out those two cops who were supposed to be guarding Karen’s door. He remembered it well: he approached her open door but she was one step ahead. She already had a gun pointing at him before he could even register that he was in Karen Page’s apartment. She was scared, but she was the one holding the gun. And he was defenseless. 

The only person who could point a gun at Frank Castle and make him surrender. 

He saw the conflict in her eyes. She unlocked the safety in a fluid motion, as if she had done it before. Even in those short seconds, Frank recognized the gun. A .380, a strategic piece to carry. Small but effective. Why did she have that? He didn’t have time to dwell on it. He needed to convince her that it wasn’t him. He didn’t kill Reyes. He tried to calm her down, but then he heard it. He’d heard that sound before, but he hadn’t acted quickly enough then. This time, he had to, needed to, react quickly. And so he grabbed Karen’s gun, and pushed her to the ground, covering her head and shielding her from the hell that always followed him.

Karen unlocked the door to her apartment and switched the light on. Frank followed her in and felt like he walked into a war zone. A too familiar feeling.

The bullet holes still lined the walls of her apt. There was shattered glass on the ground next to her windows. The stuffing from the cushions on her chairs were bursting through the holes shot into them. Frames on the walls were shattered and lop-sided. Chipped paint and pieces of plaster gathered on the floor around her desk.

“Fuck. It’s a mess in here.” Frank couldn’t hide his shock. And it irritated him that Karen had been living like this. He walked further into her apt and began pushing bullets, glass, and plaster into a pile with the side of his shoe.

“Yeah, I haven’t really had time to clean up” Karen said with some bitterness in her voice. She knew he didn’t mean to insult her or her place, but it did look like hell.

Frank walked over to her broken windows and could feel the winter breeze seeping through. “Do you have any duct tape and plastic bags or cardboard? I could patch this up until you get some new windows.” Fragments of Frank Castle, before the Punisher, seemed to emerge from deep within as he looked at the windows, trying to figure how he could fix it. 

Karen’s mind seemed to be elsewhere. She had forgotten about the state of her apartment and at that moment felt overwhelmed. The last few nights were a whirlwind and all she wanted to do was shower and sleep. But her apartment was a mess and Frank Castle was standing at her windows offering some home improvement help. “Uhh yeah, there’s duct tape in my desk drawer and…” she walked over to her kitchen closet and pulled out some plastic bags and folded cardboard. She placed them on her coffee table which was also littered with bullets and glass pieces. “Want some coffee?”

Frank could see that Karen went into auto-pilot mode. The state of her apartment seemed to slap her in the face, made her recognize everything that had been going on the last few days. She busied herself, finding things and making coffee. Frank walked over to her as she stood at her kitchen counter struggling to measure coffee grounds into her coffee filter. He stopped at her side.

“Hey…” he said, turning his body toward her. She turned her face to his and saw him shifting his eyes as if analyzing her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Karen took in a sharp breath. His eyes, circled by bluish and greenish bruises, were still able to convey something, his attempt at concern. “Yeah” she exhaled, and then she looked down at her hands shaking as she was trying to measure out the coffee grounds. Frank looked down at her hands too. He knew he should do something. But once again, he hesitated to comfort her. He couldn’t get too close.

Karen took in another deep breath. “I need to shower. I feel like there’s still blood on me…and it’s not even mine.” She tossed the measuring cup back into the coffee ground container. Frank stepped away from her, thankful for her quick shift into another task. 

“I’ll just be a few minutes. Can you make the coffee?” Karen asked without waiting for a response. She turned towards her bathroom door but stopped short when she noticed all of the bullet holes in it. She placed her hand up to the door and grazed her fingers across the holes. She felt like she had just stepped out of her body and was watching someone else trace the damage along her door. Frank watched her from the kitchen counter. She then opened the door and disappeared into the bathroom. Frank heard the shower turn on and watched the door until steam curled out from below. He returned back to the coffee maker and placed the filter into place, turning the machine on. 

Frank then made his way to the window closest to Karen’s bed and got to work. He brushed away stray pieces of glass and began ripping up the plastic bags so he could tape them up to them window. This will have to do for now. As he was duct taping the plastic against the window, he could hear the glass crunch against his boots. He looked down and followed the trail of broken glass and bullets towards Karen’s desk. He would fix the second window later but now he had to take care of the floor. He walked to the kitchen closet and found a dust pan and broom. He went over to Karen’s desk and started brushing off the mess from the top of her desk. He then kneeled down to the floor to get the rest of it.

The door to the bathroom slowly opened and Karen peaked out. She looked around and then down to the floor and saw Frank sweeping. “What are you doing?!” she asked with a slight chuckle in her voice.

“You’ve got all this shit on the ground. Someone’s gotta clean it before you cut up your feet” Frank replied, somewhat annoyed. As if it wasn’t obvious why he was on the floor.

Karen stood at her bathroom door and smiled slightly. He was cleaning up because he didn’t want her to get hurt. She didn’t expect him to be on all fours sweeping but she appreciated it. Frank looked up at her and noticed she was wearing a thin, light purple bath robe. It was about up to her knees, and she was holding it tightly to her chest. Her hair was messy and wet, clinging to her face. His thoughts went somewhere they shouldn’t have as he looked at her. He quickly turned back to cleaning.

Although Frank’s eyes lingered for only a few seconds, Karen suddenly felt self-conscious. She was in a thin bathrobe and she was still wet from the shower. She quickly shifted her stance and walked out of the bathroom and behind Frank to her closet. She needed to grab some real clothes.

As Karen walked behind Frank, he picked up a floral scent. Was it her body wash? Shampoo? He didn’t know what it was, but it smelled nice. It reminded him of comfort, of something sweet. He turned to look towards Karen as she shuffled through her closet. He watched her from behind for a few seconds, cursed at himself in his head, and then went back to the task at hand.

Karen grabbed the most innocent pajamas she could find: a pair of navy flannel pants and a light gray v-neck shirt. What is wrong with me? Why am I so nervous? She thought. Because Frank Castle is kneeling on my floor as I am totally naked beneath this robe. She grabbed her clothes and hurried back to the bathroom to change.

Frank slowly got up when the bathroom door closed, glad that she was far away enough for him to push aside any thoughts he was having about her. He did quite a good job sweeping and went back to the kitchen to dump the debris into the trash. The coffee was finally ready so he rinsed his hands, grabbed two mugs from the dish rack, and filled them up. 

Karen came back out of the bathroom, fully clothed, but face still flushed. She walked towards Frank as he held out one mug of coffee towards her. “Thank you” she said as she joined him at the kitchen counter, both leaning their backs against it. They sipped quietly. 

Karen looked around her apartment and noticed that it looked a lot better considering Frank had only been cleaning for 10-15 mins. She noticed that one of her windows was covered up. “Thanks for fixing my window” she said, turning towards Frank and smiling, her eyes bright.

Frank had the mug up to his mouth. He looked towards her, took a sip, “You’re welcome. I’ll cover the other one up. When is your super gonna take care of this?” Frank asked.

“I don’t know, I think he’s a little worried about me…thinks I’m a liability now.” Karen replies with a slight grin on her face. She knows she is.

“Want me to straighten him out?” Frank asked, looking towards the broken window. Karen saw his mouth turn up slightly, sensed a hint of playfulness in his voice, but it lasted a second. That’s all he could give.

She smiled at his remark. “No, he’s not a bad guy. Just trying to do his job.”

They stood there leaning against her kitchen counter, slowly sipping their coffee. It was nice, somewhat peaceful among all the chaos they both recently experienced. The silence wasn’t awkward and Karen didn’t feel the need to pierce the quiet with conversation. 

It was Frank that broke the silence, “I finally went back to my family’s house.” Karen slowly turned to face Frank. She knew it must have been difficult for him to go back, but his voice did not convey much emotions as he said it. Typical Frank. She surveyed his face waiting for him to say anything else. He just went on sipping his coffee.

“Oh…how was it?” Karen asked even though she felt silly asking like that, like she was asking how a movie was or how a restaurant was. 

Frank responded in his low, gravely voice, “I covered everything in gasoline and lit the house on fire.” His face was blank, his stare was straight ahead. He said it as if someone else had destroyed his home.

Without even thinking, without even realizing that any other person could accept a specific response from her but that Frank Castle wasn’t any other person, Karen slowly placed her hand on Frank’s shoulder, “Oh Frank.” She didn’t say it out of pity, just out of understanding. That what he did was his way of trying to move forward, to let go of some of the pain. To find some way of feeling in control of dealing with what happened to his family.

As soon as Karen placed her hand on Frank’s shoulder, his body tensed up and he pulled away. Karen reacted too by pulling her hand away, as if she had just touched a hot stove. 

Frank turned to Karen, his eyes wide but then suddenly softening, alertness changing to confusion changing to realization in a matter of seconds. “Sorry…not used to that,” he said as he stepped away from the counter, away from Karen, and towards the broken window. He placed his coffee cup down on her small kitchen table and grabbed more plastic bags and duct tape. 

Karen tried to recover quickly. She wanted to kick herself for trying to comfort Frank in a “normal” way. Her relationship with him was definitely not normal and she couldn’t let a slip up like that happen again. She knew that if she showed she cared too much, he would push her away. She had to maintain some kind of emotional distance, even though it was slowly breaking her.

She walked towards her kitchen table and sat down, watching Frank as he worked on the window.

“You gonna tell me about Wesley or what?” Frank asked in a muffled voice as he held a piece of duct tape in his mouth.

Karen’s stomach dropped, she took a sharp inhale. She felt her heart rate pick up a bit, she shifted in her chair. Frank looked at her from the corner of her eye, “We had a deal. I need to know about your involvement with Fisk.” He said it so mechanically, as if he didn’t even care about the internal emotional wreck that Karen was becoming in just a matter of seconds. 

He did care, but he cared more about the danger that Karen might be in because of Fisk. They both knew what Fisk was capable of. He continued his work on the window but angled his body so he can still see Karen. And he waited.

Karen’s mind whirled. Where to begin? How can she make sense of it and say it out loud? If she shares her story, it will make it too real. And she’ll have to re-live it again. In her nightmares was enough. But if she was going to tell anyone, it would be Frank. She didn’t judge him. She hoped he wouldn’t judge her.

“I was trying to dig up some dirt on Fisk. He was so private, it was so hard finding anything on him. It’s like he was a ghost, he had no history. I had to find something, anything to prove that he was capable of doing horrible things. That he did horrible things.” Karen’s words were rushed, but it felt somewhat cathartic to finally let the words out. She didn’t look at Frank but could feel his eyes on her. Watching, waiting.

She continued, “I kept digging. Eventually I found a marriage certificate of his mother. I traced it back and found out that she was alive. Even though Wilson had claimed both of his parents were dead. I didn’t know if it would lead me to anything, but I had to try. I looked into it and found that his mother was staying at an elderly care home in upstate New York. So then I tricked Urich into going with me so we could investigate.” She stopped. Her voice caught in her throat. She took Ben there, it was because of her that he was involved in the lies Fisk wanted to cover up. It was because of her that Fisk went looking for Ben. Her eyes began to blur and her voice felt weak. She remembered why she spent so much time hating herself and wanting to hide. She shook her head and went on. Frank wasn’t working on the window any more, just standing by it but listening to Karen.

“When we finally got to Fisk’s mom, we realized she was a little out of it. Maybe she had dementia or something. She was really nice though and eventually I got her to talk about her son. About Fisk. She talked about how he was a good boy but that her 1st husband was abusive to her and to Fisk. One day he was beating on Fisk’s mom and so Fisk took a hammer and hit his dad over the head with it…over and over again.” She stopped, let the story sink in. 

Frank mumbled, “Shit.”

“So then he and his mom cut his dad up. And dumped pieces of his body into a river every few days until he was gone.” Karen let out a deep exhale and dropped her head. She wasn’t even at the more difficult part of her story but she was already exhausted.

Frank could tell she was worn out but he needed to know everything. He needed to know how to protect Karen from Fisk. He moved over to the kitchen table and sat down across from her. “Alright, so Fisk had a fucked up childhood and killed his dad, then what happened?” Frank asked. 

It irritated Karen that Frank was pushing so much. Couldn’t he see that she was struggling to keep it together? She looked up at him and was surprised to see some concern in his eyes. Even though his words were curt, his face was soft as he waited for her to respond.

“I wasn’t sure if that story would help us or hurt us in trying to take down Fisk. But we had to publicize that he lied about his past. If one lie could be uncovered, maybe others would surface too. Urich wrote up an article about it, but then out of nowhere Wilson came out of hiding and started to publicize himself and his hopes for Hell’s Kitchen. It was like he was one step ahead of us. We wanted to expose him but he did it first. We were going to move forward and publish the article anyways but then…” She stopped. Now her part in the story came rushing back to her. She felt nauseous. She held her arms closer to her body. “I was coming back late from the Bulletin and I was at my apartment door when someone grabbed me from behind and placed a cloth over my mouth.” She looked up at Frank. His eyes were wide and his jaws were clenched. He was sitting with his hands folded on the table but his index finger was tapping against his hand.

“I don’t remember anything after that. He probably drugged me. I was knocked out and the next thing I knew, I was sitting at a table in an empty warehouse. My hands were tied behind my back. My vision was blurred and I still felt dizzy but I could tell someone was there. Fisk’s personal assistant, Wesley. He sat across from me. Told me he knew that I went to see Fisk’s mom. He offered me a deal. To work for them. I told him he should just kill me instead.” Frank shifted in his seat. Of course Karen would challenge her kidnapper to just kill her. 

“Wesley threatened me. Said he wouldn’t kill me, but that he would kill anyone close to me. Take away everything I had. Make sure that I was left with absolutely nothing.” Karen’s voice cracked. She became aware that what Wesley threatened her with, Frank had already experienced. His family was taken away and he was left with nothing.

“Wesley had left his gun on the table. It was just resting there between us. He was using it to scare me, to tease me with what he could do to me. But the whole time he was talking I was loosening the ties around my hands. I finally got free and grabbed the gun from the table, unlocked the safety, and pointed it at him.” Karen couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw a change in Frank’s stone expression. His eye brows peaked a little and his eyes narrowed, like he was thinking. Contemplating. Seeing Karen in a different way. He looked somewhat satisfied. But she didn’t want to entertain that idea. The Punisher was supporting what Karen did. She didn’t know how she felt about that.

“He laughed in my face. Said he wasn’t dumb enough to leave a loaded gun in front of me. So I tested him. I pulled the trigger.” She paused. 

There it was. The truth. Out loud. What she did. And now, someone knew.

“I shot him in the chest. He was shocked. He thought I wouldn’t do it. So I did it again. And again. I shot him six times. He was still in the chair when I ran out of bullets. But he was slouched over…I had to make sure he was dead.” She went quiet again, she was staring down at the table. Frank could tell she was replaying each second of that night over and over again in her head. 

“I got up and wiped the gun. And then I ran out. I left him there and I ran. I…I didn’t know what to do. I still had the gun in my hands. I got to the edge of the dock and I threw it in the water.” 

She was done. Her confession was over. Karen finally looked up. Frank was looking at her, he never took her eyes off of her. She stared back at him and felt a strange sense of calm. A weight was lifted from her. She was staring back at someone who basically killed for a living now. She did what he does every night. And even though she didn’t feel better about what she did, she felt lighter now that she didn’t have to carry her guilt solely within her.

Frank cleared his throat, “You did what you had to do. You were protecting yourself. You had no other choice.” There it was, he finally provided some kind of reassurance.

Karen looked away. “That doesn’t change how I feel about what I did. I still feel like shit. I can’t sleep, I have nightmares about it all the time. It shouldn’t have happened that way. If I just stayed away from Fisks’s mom, Urich would be alive and I wouldn’t have killed some…” She choked up, she tried her hardest to keep her body from trembling. But she couldn’t stop the tears. They flowed down her face as she stared away and then down at her hands.

Frank rose from his chair and kneeled down next to Karen so they were face to face, “Listen, you listening?” he asked roughly. That got her attention. “You are not a bad person. You were protecting yourself. You were left with no other options and you saved yourself.” Karen was hearing his words through her quiet sobs, but she wasn’t listening, she didn’t believe him. “It was either him or you” Frank continued, “and so you made a choice. And the world is a better place since it was you that came out alive.”

Karen turned away from him, unable to control her grief. Her face was wet, her eyes felt puffy, and she was unable to catch her breath. Frank was still kneeling at her side. He watched her, the thought of placing his arm around her shoulder and comforting her crossed his mind. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t get too close. 

Karen seemed to gain her composure and used her sleeves to wipe her face. She took a deep inhale and let it out. She blinked a few times and turned to face Frank. Even after sobbing her heart out, Karen Page still looked like an angel. Frank quickly dismissed that thought. 

“Told you it wasn’t my first rodeo,” Karen said quietly. Her face was sad but her eyes had some life in them.

The corner of Frank’s mouth turned upward in a slight smile that he quickly tried to hide as he turned his head away (the typical Frank Castle avoiding smile), “No ma’am, I figured it wasn’t.”


	3. Gift wrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Eve and Karen expects a night alone. But Frank comes by with a present.
> 
> The night quickly shifts gears as Frank's own confession threatens to split the delicate bond he and Karen have made.

**Chapter 3** : Gift wrap

 

***Takes place after Karen writes her article about heroes. She finds out that Matt is Daredevil. She’s angry but tries to understand why Matt had to lie. She definitely doesn’t have romantic feelings for him but hopes they can still be friends.

It's Christmas Eve and Karen’s working late at the Bulletin. Everyone’s gone home and she finally decides to leave for her apartment to spend the holiday by herself.

Karen hasn’t seen Frank in about a week. The last time she saw him was when she confessed her involvement with Wesley’s death. Frank listened and comforted her (in his own limited ways) but it was enough to make her feel a little relieved and sleep better at night.***

Karen quickly enters her apartment building to get away from the winter cold. The streets were quiet as everyone seemed to be staying in for their holiday festivities. Karen enjoyed Christmas. She liked the lights and the cheer and the carols. But she’d been spending it alone for the past few years and that’s one thing she didn’t like. She was used to it by now.

She hurried up her steps to reach the warmth and comfort of her apartment. Her landlord finally fixed her windows. “Oh, Ms. Page, you fixed them with duct tape and plastic?” he had asked, impressed by her handiwork. “No, no it was my friend just helping out,” she replied, thinking of Frank and how he rather efficiently fixed up her apartment without her even asking.

She entered her apartment and was welcomed by the dim of the tiny Christmas lights she hung around the place. She preferred the white lights over the multi-colored ones and they made her apartment feel like a fairy tale, a stark contrast from the bullet-ridden Hell’s kitchen shit hole it was a couple weeks ago.

Karen took off her shoes and placed her bag on her kitchen table. She took her laptop out and set it up to watch a Christmas movie. And even though it was about 9 o’clock at night, she went over to her kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. Nothing like hot coffee and a movie on a cold Christmas night.

As she began to scoop out the coffee grounds, she heard a light knock. Her heart jumped. She turned to the source of the sound: her window. Karen quickly reached for her purse and pulled out her .380. Her heart was racing and then she heard the knock again. And then suddenly a voice, “Hey, it’s me.” It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The low, raspy voice with a slow drawl. Karen’s heart was still racing but now it wasn’t out of fear.

She quickly went over to the window and pulled her curtain aside. There he was, Frank Castle, crouching at her fire escape, tapping at her window.

She placed her gun down on her sill and then opened the window. “Jesus Christ Frank! Are you trying to get shot?!” she said through the grate that provided further security to her 3rd story window. She unlatched the grate and saw a coy smile cross Frank’s lips. “No ma’am, just trying to pay a friendly visit.” Karen looked him up and down. His face had recovered from many of the cuts and bruises he had before. But she could still see some swelling around his cheeks and green and yellow around his right eye. His hair was a little longer on top but still buzzed on the sides. And the cold winter air seemed to leave their crimson mark on the tip of his nose and the tops of his ears.

“What are you doing here?” Karen asked before Frank could notice that she was surveying him. “I was gonna ask you the same thing. It’s Christmas Eve and you’re home” he said as he readjusted himself in his crouching position. Karen realized she was shivering and that Frank looked uncomfortable trying to remain balanced on her small fire escape.

“Shit, sorry. Come in, it’s cold!” she exclaimed as she moved aside to let Frank climb through her window and into her apartment. She couldn’t help but enjoy him brushing up against her as he placed his feet on the floor. But she quickly came back to reality and shut the gate and closed her window. Karen turned and got a better look at Frank as he stood tall and looked around at the lights she hung up. He looked bigger now, a little more substance to his face, maybe he’s been eating better. Even through his open jacket she could see the definition of his chest muscles. Her heart fluttered. She quickly diverted her eyes back to his face when he spoke. “Nice lights,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Thanks, I thought they added a little something to the plastered up bullet holes in my walls,” she replied as she moved towards her kitchen to her coffee machine. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes ma’am,” was his reply. She missed that, she cursed herself for liking it when he called her that, but it was nice. She turned on her faucet to fill the coffee pot.

“Wait, I got you something,” Frank said in a low even voice. Karen turned around and saw Frank pull out a black plastic bag with something bulky inside. She looked at Frank incredulously. “What is it?” she asked.

He walked over to her kitchen table and tossed it on top. “Open it” he said, “I couldn’t manage that fancy wrapping paper shit.”

Karen chuckled and shook her head. Did Frank Castle really get her a _present_? “You got me a Christmas present?” she asked, unable to hide the disbelief in her voice.

“Yea, it’s nothing special. Don’t get all excited. I’ll take it if you don’t want it” Frank said nonchalantly, even though he was eyeing Karen’s reaction.

She laughed again and walked over to the plastic bag-wrapped gift on her table. She tore the tape off and peered inside. When she saw what it was, she smiled and looked up at Frank. “Coffee?” she grinned.

“Yea, just take it out and look at the back,” he said with a sense of eagerness, like there was more.

She pulled the bag of coffee grounds out of the plastic bag and turned it over to read the back. She quietly mouthed the words: description of the beans, their taste, their smell, and then finally where they were from. “Vermont?” she read out loud, now with a wider grin across her face as she looked up at Frank. “You got me coffee beans from Vermont?”

“Yea, you’re from there, right? Figured maybe you’d like a reminder of home.” He looked down, like he was embarrassed. The Punisher feeling silly about buying a Christmas present for someone. He brought his hand up to scratch his head, avoiding eye contact with Karen’s beaming bright face.

It was a bittersweet gift to her, to be honest. She didn’t really want a reminder of home, too many bad memories, moments she wanted to get away from, pain she wanted to forget. But with the Frank Castle touch, it was something she could appreciate. A nice gesture she could use to help replace a dark and troubled past, even if just for a moment.

“It’s great, thank you,” she couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. “How about I brew us a pot?” she asked without waiting for a response as she went back to the coffee maker and opened the bag of new Vermont coffee beans.

Frank sat down at the table, trying to revert back to his cold, calculated, emotionless self. But he was pretty pleased with his gift giving ability and he watched Karen as she made the coffee, a new energy radiating from her.

“Don’t you have anyone to spend Christmas with? Family? Or that Foggy…or Murdock?” He said the last word a little slower, dragged out. He wanted to get a rise out of her, why was he such an asshole?

“You’re here now. I’m spending it with you,” she replied, not fazed by his emphasis on Murdock. She turned around and looked him dead straight. He just had to mess with the nice moment they shared with his gift.

Frank felt a pang in his chest. He lowered his eyes. What shitty luck, she had to spend her holiday with a murderer. At least he brought her coffee.

“So what? I told you to hold on with two hands. You let go?” Frank was prying. What was he doing? Why did he care? Why did he want to get involved? Because it was Karen.

Karen seemed to be thinking, choosing her words wisely. The truth was that Matt was Daredevil. Which made it even harder for her to hold on. And besides, she stopped _wanting_ to hold on to Matt. Her interests were derailed to a different kind of mess.

“Yeah, I let go. There was nothing there anymore. I’m not the Karen I used to be, the Karen that loved Matt.” It sounded weird to her, to say out loud that she loved Matt. But it was true, she did once. But things changed. She stood there with her back against the kitchen counter feeling a little more empowered. The last time Frank confronted her about Matt, she was caught off guard, fumbling over her words. But this time, she knew how she felt. And it was a good feeling.

Frank looked at her unable to hide his skepticism. “What changed? He still lying to you?” Why was he pushing? Why did he want answers, he was annoyed at himself. But he wanted to confirm that she didn’t care about Matt like that anymore.

Karen took in a deep breath. “No, he finally told me the truth…about…some things. It was too little too late but I could appreciate it now.” She couldn’t reveal any more. Matt’s secret was safe with her.

However, it wasn’t really a secret. Frank caught on pretty quickly about Matt’s double life. “You mean his other night job?” Frank asked with a cocky tilt of his head.

Realization flashed over Karen’s face. “You knew?!” She asked seething. Of course he knew. Everyone knew except Karen because everyone was trying to “protect” Karen by keeping her in the dark.

Frank wasn’t prepared for her reaction. He straightened up in his chair. “I figured it out. I had a few run-ins with him and saw right through his lawyer Catholic vigilante bullshit.” He was trying to defend himself. Make it seem like he wasn’t the one hiding Matt’s identity from Karen.

Karen threw her hands up in exasperation, “Well great, I’m glad I was the only idiot fooled. I bet Foggy knows too.” She turned back to the coffee which was finally done and poured two mugs. She walked them over to the table and set one down for Frank and she took a seat across him.

As if coffee had some magical power, Karen brought the mug up to her mouth and took a deep inhale. The scent of fresh coffee that she’s never had before filled her nose and calmed her senses. She took a sip while watching Frank and smiled slightly. “It’s good. Try it.”

He wrapped his hand around the warm mug she placed in front of him and brought it to his lips, keeping his eyes on Karen. She was watching him too, anticipating his reaction.

The coffee was smooth with just the right amount of bitterness. He drank coffee like it was water but stopped enjoying it and saw it as more of a necessity, something to keep his alertness sharp. But when he would have coffee with Karen, it always seemed to taste better.

Frank cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. He seemed a little anxious. “What, you don’t like it?” Karen asked, confused by his shift in demeanor.

“No, no, it’s good….” he cleared his throat, “There’s something I have to tell you.” He’d been keeping it from her. But she believed that he never lied to her and he had to live up to that. Matt lied to her and that’s why she let him go. But Frank wanted, needed her to hold on to him. She was the only person on his side. The only person that cared.

He cleared his throat again and took a sip of his coffee. Karen looked at him, concern in her eyes. Frank spoke, “I didn’t tell you at the time…how I got out of the prison.” His eyes shifted from her back to his mug.

Karen was watching Frank but then her eyes glazed over like she was trying to remember, “No… no you didn’t.” The day was a blur but now that she tried to retrieve the memories in her mind, it dawned on her that she didn’t know how Frank got out. One second she was face down in Reyes’ office surrounded by glass and bullets on the floor. Then she was standing in front of a hotel room crime scene next to Ellison. The next she was pointing a gun at Frank in her own apartment. Then she was on a street corner telling Matt that he can’t protect her any more. And then the diner with Frank. All those of moments flashed in her mind but there was no memory of her asking Frank how the hell he got out of jail. And now he was going to tell her. She waited.

He continued to stare at her, knew that now there was no going back. Whether he lied or told the truth, she would still be hurt…disappointed. “Right before I was supposed to take the stand, there was a meeting set up with me at the prison.”

Karen narrowed her eyes, “What kind of meeting?”

Frank diverted his eyes from Karen and stared at the table. “With Fisk.” Karen inhaled sharply at the sound of his name. “He wanted to talk to me, said he had some information that I wanted. So I met with him, just to hear what he had to say.”

Karen slowly started to realize what Frank was telling her, and where this conversation between him and Fisk was going. She tried to conceal the concern and anger she felt, but Frank was able to see the shift in her eyes.

“Even in prison, he still had power, had influence. People knew who he was and were afraid of him. But he was the new guy and there was another shitbag, Dutton, who ran things in the prison. Fisk offered me a deal”

Karen scoffed at those words, crossed her arms and turned away from Frank in disbelief. Fisk didn’t make deals with anyone, she thought. He just got them to do what he wanted and then he killed them. She turned back to Frank, her eyes daring him to continue.

Frank pretended like he couldn’t read her and went on, “Dutton was involved in the carousel massacre. I could get more information from him, and then if I got rid of him, Fisk would make sure I was released.” There it was, he was honest. But he knew she didn’t like it. He didn’t mention the part where Fisk locked the cell on him and left him to die by Dutton’s guys. He would have to keep some truths to himself.

There was silence. Karen just stared across the table, not directly at Frank but more through him. All of the softness she had shown him earlier was gone. The coffee gift was forgotten, the glow of the Christmas lights no longer felt cozy. “You made a deal with Fisk…to get you out of jail?” She tried to keep her voice level but it was quivering. “You killed for Fisk.” Then she looked straight at him and Frank felt like her eyes were daggers that would fly towards him and tear him apart. He had never seen Karen look so angry. But he kept calm, he knew she wouldn’t take it well.

“You threw the trial,” she said quietly, no longer able to look at Frank. She finally understood. “After everything me, Foggy, and Matt did for you? After everything I did? I defended you! Everyone thought I was crazy and stupid but I fought for you! I worked so hard to find out about you and your family. To show people that what you went through was a daily nightmare. To help you. And you threw it all away for FISK?” She said the last sentence with so much venom, her words could paralyze him.

Frank clenched his jaw. “I didn’t ask you to do all that.” Karen scoffed and rolled her eyes which made Frank’s blood boil.  His voice grew a little louder, “I wanted answers about my family and you were trying to send me off to some psych hell hole. So I took matters into my own hands.”

Karen fired back, teeth clenched, words bitter, “You did _NOT_ take matters into your own hands. You were a coward and instead of letting us help you, you ran to Fisk and he _USED_ you.” Frank straightened in his chair, his chest rising with heavier breaths. His eyes were consumed by rage and Karen knew that she had gone too far. But she didn’t care, she was pissed.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about lady,” the formalities were gone, the Punisher was coming out. His voice rose even more, “I got the information I needed and I got the hell outta there. And you know what? The first place I came to was your place. To make sure you were fucking okay. And if I hadn’t come, you would’ve been ripped to shreds by bullets.” He got up, roughly pushing back the chair so that it scrapped against the kitchen floor. He moved closer to her, he was up to his full height and looking down at her. His voice was even louder and angrier, “I got out of there for me. So I could do MY job. I did what I had to do!” Karen jumped at the intensity of his words, shaken by the volume that their conversation had reached.

And then Frank saw it. In her eyes. The anger and sadness were gone, replaced by fear. The last time he saw fear in her eyes was when she was running with Grotto and Frank was shooting at them. That was when she didn’t know him.

But now she knows him, every part. And now she’s afraid. He finally managed to scare her.

Frank’s stomach knotted. The rage simmered and he felt a sense of panic. The only person in this world who saw Frank as someone other than a killer, and he went ahead and fucked it up. He stepped back, ashamed that he had lost control of his anger and let it out on Karen. She just stared at him wide-eyed, small in her chair.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I…I need to go,” he turned to her window and quickly opened it to make his escape.

“Frank, wait…,” Karen said hesitantly, softly, as she rose from her chair.

He couldn’t turn around. He didn’t want to see her face, to see the fear in her eyes that was there because of him.  He quickly pulled aside the grate and hoisted himself onto the fire escape. He turned around and shoved it back into place, looking back to see Karen’s face distorted by the zig-zag pattern of the metal barrier. She stood there staring back at him. And then he was gone.


	4. First Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank felt like he was in a dream. Such innocent and delicate touches, light kisses on his face. And they were meant for him. He couldn’t understand how someone like her could find a way to be so gentle, especially to a person like him.

Karen stood there for a few minutes, trying to register what just happened. She had a right to be angry. Frank had completely dismissed all of the work she did to help him and had then helped the one man who damaged so much of Karen’s life. Who cares that Frank didn’t know about Fisk’s role in Urich’s death. He spent all of his time killing the bad guys and then he went ahead and did Fisk’s dirty work. It seemed like no one was immune to Fisk’s evil grip. And if the Punisher couldn’t resist Fisk’s manipulation, who could?

She was furious and disappointed, but a small part of her knew that Frank did it for his family. That was always his first priority, his only priority. To get the answers, and then get revenge, no matter how he got it. She knew calling him a coward was a low blow, but after everything, it was the only way she thought she could hurt him. She wanted to hurt him. She dropped her head, rubbing her eyes in frustration.

How did she get to this point? She cared about Frank, he had been through so much. Why would she say something like that, when she knew everything he did stemmed from his grief and loss. Maybe she was also upset because once again, Frank had shut her out. She wanted to help him in court but he chose his own way. And that night outside of the cabin, she tried to convince him to spare Schoonover, so she could help him work through it. But he chose his own way. Karen felt like a fool. She constantly tried to break down his walls but he wouldn’t budge. And now, there was only one thing she could do. She had to protect herself from it all, she would have to put up her own walls too.

Karen’s head felt heavy, she suddenly felt very tired. She just wanted a peaceful Christmas Eve with coffee and a movie but she was drained. She walked over to her closet and freed herself from her constrictive work clothes. She opted for a flannel night shirt and some thick, warm socks. She made her way back to the kitchen table and noticed the two mugs of coffee, both cold by now, a reminder of how her night went. Warm and comforting in the beginning but becoming cold and bitter as the night wore on.

Karen left the coffee mugs on her table and collapsed on to her couch. She started up one of her favorite holiday movies, “A Christmas Story,” and settled into the couch cushions. The movie began but she just laid there in a daze, her mind wandering to Frank. Where did he go? Would she see him again? She needed to be more cautious, needed to guard herself because too much of her feelings had become entwined in him and his life. She had to close herself off, detach from him, or else she might just crash and burn. Karen’s eyes felt heavy as the weight of her thoughts and her exhaustion consumed her. Her head slowly dropped as she drifted off into sleep.

She didn’t know how long she slept but she was startled by a light knock. Aroused from her sleep and her eyes still blurry, she looked at her computer screen and saw the movie still playing and the clock reading 12:27 am. Merry Christmas Karen.

She heard the knock again and just like a few hours ago, it came from her window. Oh god. _Frank came back?_

She rose from the couch and walked over to her window, slowly pulling aside the curtain. There was Frank, squatting on her fire escape. Even with the window closed and the grate locked, she could still make out some features of his face. And she saw blood.

Karen slowly opened her window. The cold air rushed in along with Frank’s voice, low and hollow, “Hey.” She pulled aside the grate and got a better look at him. His lip was busted, and he had a gash above his left eye. Another cut trailing his right cheek along with some swelling. No matter how many times she saw Frank this way, bruised, beaten, bleeding, it still made her heart ache.

“Can I come in?” he asked, looking up at her and then down again. He looked anxious, maybe he was nervous about her response.

She looked at him, considering her words. She told herself to be careful, to keep some emotional distance. _But he came back_. And she was relieved. “Only if you promise not to storm out again,” Karen replied, unable to mask her doubts.

He cleared his throat, “Yes, ma’am.” Karen moved away from the window and back into her apartment as Frank climbed in. He closed the grate and the window behind him and then tried to fix the curtains. Karen just watched him, fumbling to make them look undisturbed.

He turned to her and she noticed that his knuckles were raw and red. “Come on, let’s clean you up,” she said as she walked towards her bathroom. Frank followed, heavy booted steps behind her light ones. She turned the bathroom light on and kneeled down to the cabinet below, searching for her first aid kit. Frank moved next to her and noticed himself in the mirror. He looked like shit. He turned back around and leaned against the bathroom counter, breathing deeply and staring up at the ceiling. Karen rose and placed the first aid kit on the counter next to him. “Who was is this time?” she asked as she took out some alcohol pads and gauze.

“Some low-tier shit bags, part of the Russian mob. There was supposed to be a meeting with some major players but I think they changed their plans last minute. I only got to a few of ‘em.” He sounded disappointed. And tired. Karen listened as she got a washcloth and ran it under hot water. She moved closer to Frank and brought the cloth up to his mouth to wipe away the blood. He flinched slightly at her touch but she continued. She was trying hard to concentrate on her work, delicately wiping the blood, blotting to prevent further bleeding. She tried not to notice how close she was to him at the moment, and how his eyes were watching her, shifting from left to right. Once his lips were wiped clean, she rinsed the cloth and moved to his cheek. He could feel her warm, delicate fingers brush against his skin as she wiped away blood. Her brows were furrowed, eyes fixed. He sensed some distance from her, even though she was only a few inches away.

She was working in silence, not saying a word. It was killing him. She wasn’t cold. She was helping him but something was different. “Listen…” Frank started. His words seemed to break Karen out of a trance, she moved her hand down from his face and looked at him. He took a deep inhale, “…about earlier tonight…I shouldn’t have yelled. Or left like that.” He looked away, as if thinking about what to say next. He turned back to her, “I’m sorry.”

Karen watched him, her eyes lingering on his face. She moved towards the sink and ripped open a small packet of alcohol pads. Grabbing one, she turned towards Frank, eyes focused, face soft, “The people who can really hurt you are the ones close enough to do it, right?” she asked as she gently brushed the alcohol pad on his cut lip.

It burned slightly, but then it was gone. She moved the pad off and grabbed the wash cloth again to clean the cut above his brow. He didn’t know how to interpret her response. She had a way of really sticking it to him by some of the remarks she made, always catching him off guard. But he was at her mercy. “I’m an asshole,” he said gruffly, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Mmm, only sometimes,” she replied, the corner of her mouth turned up slightly, and she finally looked at Frank with some warmth in her eyes. She continued to clean him up, wiping his skin with alcohol, taping up his wounds, thankful that he didn’t need any stitches. He watched her, diligently working. He was surprised that even after what happened earlier, after everything, she was still able to let him in, accept him.

“How is it that you always take me in?” he asked, cocking his head slightly, “I come around randomly, late at night, disturb you, put you in danger,” he was looking at her, perplexed. “After all that you’ve seen me do. Everything that you know now, why do you put up with it?” His eyes searched her face for an answer.

Karen stepped back from him, surveying his face, thinking. “It’s because I care…you know that,” she replied, as if it was the most obvious concept in the world. She didn’t try to hide it, she always believed Frank and valued him as a person. She would sometimes cringe at the thought of how he “dealt” with people, but she tried to understand him. His loss is what drove him, and Karen could relate.

She moved back towards him but Frank stopped her. His demeanor changed. He figured she cared about him, but hearing her say it out loud made it more real. And it scared him. “Yea well, you should stop caring about me” he said flatly, looking directly at her and trying to sound cold. His eyes conveyed something different than his words. “And why should I?” Karen asked, clearly irritated. He came back to _her_ , and now he’s trying to put up a front by telling her not to care?

Frank’s face softened, there was a pause. He dropped his eyes, “Because you give me something to live for…” he said softly. He lifted his head back and looked directly at her, “and that wasn’t part of my plan.”

Karen’s breath caught in her throat. Her stomach turned and her heart was pounding. She looked at him, standing there. Vulnerable, tired, beaten. She tried so hard to keep her distance, to stop feeling anything for him. He consistently pushed her away but then pulled her back.  She thought she had the strength to let go. She would just clean his wounds and send him on his way. Her walls were crumbling but she was scared. She had to protect herself.

She panicked, she needed a diversion. She moved towards the counter and quickly busied herself with organizing the first aid kit. “Anything else you need me to patch up?” she asked as she fumbled with the gauze.

Frank watched her. He could tell that she was flustered, avoiding the weight of what he had just said. A part of him wondered why he said it. He wasn’t supposed to get close. And to feel something and actually tell her? He was losing his touch. But she was right there, caring for him, showing him kindness and warmth. He needed to feel something good again.

He softly placed his hand on top of hers, his knuckles still red and raw. She let out a soft gasp. Frank slowly moved her hand towards him. Karen looked up at him, frozen, unsure of what was happening. A sudden heat rushed across her face.

With his hand over hers, he gently placed her hand on his chest. Karen felt his strong heart beat under her hand. She rested it flat against him as he kept his cupped around hers. Her small hand following the rise and fall of his slow breaths. His eyes were closed as he held her hand, a quite peace washing over his face.

Without even thinking, because if she did then she would talk herself out of it, Karen moved closer to Frank, her heart rate quickening, breaths shallow. She tilted her face up to him until she was just inches away. He slowly opened his eyes, suddenly aware that she was even closer to him now. She pushed forward, her lips gently landing on his.

It was the softest kiss, her warm lips sending sparks throughout Frank’s body. Her lips lingered on his for just a few moments, while her hand still rested against his chest. The delicate touch of her mouth on his, the warmth of her body that was now flush against him, the longing that he tried to ignore, finally being satisfied.

Karen’s stomach was in knots, but as soon as her lips felt his, and he didn’t push her away, she was able to melt into him. His lips were softer than she expected, warm and strong. She gently placed her lips on his, afraid that if she gave too much she might cross the line. She had no idea where the boundaries were any more.

She slowly pulled away, her eyes still closed. He didn’t want her to part from him. He held on to her hand on his chest. Karen reluctantly opened her eyes, afraid that she would see fear or panic or anger in his eyes and he would push her away. But he was gently gazing back at her, and she could feel his heart pounding even harder under her hand. Karen slowly moved her hand down and when Frank went to let go, she quickly held on, wanting to maintain their connection, to keep this moment between them. He intertwined his fingers with hers. They stood there, gazing at one another. Recovering from the brief moment of electricity, the rush of giving in to suppressed desires.

And then Karen turned towards the bathroom door, gently pulling his arm so he would follow. She walked them towards her bed, her mind racing as to what she would do next. She brought him to the side of the bed and stopped, then turned towards him. She let go of his hand and moved both her hands to his shoulders, slowly pulling off his black coat. Frank helped her by pulling his arms out of the sleeves as she tossed it to the ground. He never kept his eyes off of her. She moved to his side and gently pulled him down to sit on her bed as she sat next to him.

Karen’s heart was beating outside of her chest, she was sure he could hear it. She contemplated what to do next. They got this far, but what now? They were sitting so close to each other, their legs touching, one of her hands resting on his thigh. Before she could plan out her next move, Frank’s hands slowly came up to her face. He held her gently, his hands cupping her chin, his thumbs along her jawline. And then he pulled her in.

His mouth met hers, distance no longer between them as they took each other in. He wasn’t aggressive or rough, but his mouth and body knew what they wanted. His kiss had a purpose, a longing. Deeper they met, their tongues in a slow dance, giving and taking. Frank’s hands moved from Karen’s face down to her waist and he pulled her in closer.

Karen was complete mush. Her body tingled and ached, wanting more as Frank’s tongue slipped in and around hers. She laced her hands around his neck, the prickle of his short buzz cut tickling her fingertips. She pulled him closer, trying to match the intensity of his kiss. His strong hands slowly grazing up and down her waist, sending chills down her spine.

Their kiss deepened. Still holding on to Karen, Frank gently laid her down on her bed as he shifted to her side to lay next to her. He rested on his arms so his own weight didn’t crush her as they continued to indulge in each other. Karen wasn’t sure how long they were kissing. Her mind was a haze as her body reacted to every touch that Frank offered. Eventually he pulled away.  The need for air finally broke them apart. Karen’s face was flushed, her lips throbbing.

Frank looked down, trying to catch his breath. He had no idea how he got to this point, lying next to Karen, out of breath, electric sensations running through his body. He hadn’t felt this way in such a long time. For a second he thought he would wake up from a dream and realize he’s all alone. But then Karen’s hand came under his chin and tilted his head up. They were face to face, her bright eyes looking into his soul, finding his darkness and radiating her golden light. She brought her hand up to his fore head where he got cut. She gently traced his brow and then the lines along his skin. He watched her as her finger glided along the many scars and bruises on his face, gentle, as if she was memorizing each feature. She ran her finger down the length of his nose and then softly caressed the side of his face. Frank pushed his cheek into her hand, wanting to increase all contact that he had with her. She moved her fingers to his lips and he gently kissed them, one fingertip at a time. He then moved his mouth to her palm and dropped small kisses along her hand. He wanted his lips to feel every part of her. He couldn’t get enough.

Karen slowly moved her hand away. She delicately placed both of her hands on the sides of Frank’s head and brought his forehead to her lips, kissing him gently. She then moved down and left a small kiss near his eye and then the other. She continued down and kissed his cheek and then moved over to the other side, placing a kiss there. Frank felt like he was in a dream. Such innocent and delicate touches, light kisses on his face. And they were meant for him. He couldn’t understand how someone like her could find a way to be so gentle, especially to a person like him. She then moved his face again, bringing his nose to her lips. She kissed the tip of his nose and Frank couldn’t hide his surprise. He let out small laugh, a smile that he tried to hide by turning his face away. But then he heard Karen laugh too, and he turned to her. And he saw it.

That bright beautiful smile, reaching all the way to her ocean blue eyes. After everything she’d gone through, she smiled less. But he remembered the last time he saw her smile like that. It was at the hospital, when Frank was talking about his kids. Her smile hypnotized him then. And it was hypnotizing him now as he lay above her, their bodies entwined. The fire within him that he was trying to contain finally broke through. He crashed his lips onto Karen’s with even more purpose and hunger. She kissed him back to match his intensity. He wanted to be closer to her so he shifted his body and moved one of his legs to rest in between hers. Karen’s hands slipped around his neck and then down his back, nails digging into his hard muscles, pulling him even closer. Frank’s hands were back at her waist but he slowly traveled his hand lower until he felt her skin. Karen was wearing a long night shirt but with them lying on the bed, her shirt was riding up. Frank could feel the soft, smooth skin of her thigh. He wrapped his hand around her leg and squeezed. A soft moan escaped Karen’s lips as she arched her back and bent her leg up to bring Frank closer to her. She felt stronger sensations coursing through her body. It had been a while since she was close to anyone, and Frank was igniting so many flames within her. His leg pressed between hers and the weight of his strong body bore down on her in all of the right places.

Frank continued to kiss Karen. He moved from her lips and left hot kisses along her jawline. He moved down and kissed her neck, tasting her skin and feeling her warmth. Karen’s hand came up to the back of Frank’s head, urging him to continue his descent. Frank trailed his lips down her neck as his hand moved up her thigh. Karen felt like putty in Frank’s embrace. She felt light-headed as her body yearned for more of his touch, to feel his hands caress her skin, to feel his hot kisses. She was losing control and she wanted him to do anything and everything. As Frank’s hand traveled further up, his name escaped Karen’s lips.

“Frank,” she gasped, desire and longing dripping from her breathless voice. Frank heard her say his name. Her voice was tantalizing. He could no longer hold back. But then suddenly, he felt a sharp pain across his eyes. He shut them and heard his name, but it wasn’t Karen’s voice. He heard gun shots, loud crashes, screaming. His body tensed up, his heart pounding. He felt like he was on fire and his head was spinning. An image flashed before him. Maria…Lisa…Frank Jr. Their lifeless bodies. All he saw was red.


	5. Sorry for all the trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank finally looks up at her, his face soft, eyes unable to hide their sorrow. He clenches his jaw and relaxes it again, taking his time to choose the right words.

Frank abruptly pushes himself off Karen, her legs still intertwined with his. His body is burning, he feels unsteady. He shuts his eyes to black out the sharp images. He doesn’t see the concerned look on Karen’s face. The loss of warmth and weight leaves her cold and confused. She quickly pulls her shirt back down and sits up as Frank moves to the side of the bed, sitting with his head in his hands.

His back is turned to her. Karen wants to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, anything to calm the deep and rapid rise and fall of his breaths. She hesitates. She doesn’t know if she is _allowed_ to comfort him at this moment. In a quiet whisper, “Frank, what is it?”

He is pulled out of his trance. The screams and red are fading. But he is left feeling exhausted. Heart broken. Angry.

“I saw them,” he says, “at the carousel.” He lifts his head and stares straight ahead.

She understands. He was reliving it again. That one moment, constantly repeating itself in his mind. Reminding him of what he lost, of what he took too much responsibility for, of what has driven him to take on this new life of fighting and killing.

She doesn’t know what to say or do. Two minutes ago it was just them, alone in this space and finally giving in. But it could never be that. There is just too much damage.

“Frank, I..,” but before she could finish he quickly rises from the bed and starts pacing the room, searching for something. Karen gets up from the bed and stands watching him, desperate to ease his racing mind.

“I gotta get out of here,” he is frantic, looking from left to right, searching, searching, “I shouldn’t have come,” he goes to the other side of the bed, eyes finally focused as he finds his shoes. “This was a mistake,” he says quietly as he sits down and begins to lace up his boots.

It hits her like a boulder to the chest. She feels like she can’t breathe. A deep, aching pain engulfs her, threatening to bring her to her knees. She steadies herself against the kitchen chair. Her eyes began to sting but she blinks away any weakness. She wants to be understanding but it’s not fair. How could he say that? She steadies her voice, “You don’t mean that” she says to the back of Frank’s head.

He pauses and lifts his head slightly, then returns to lacing his other boot. Karen walks over to Frank, standing directly in front of him. He doesn’t look up at her.

“ _You_ came _here_ ,” she says through gritted teeth, her voice louder than she expected. “ _You_ keep coming back. The night of the hostage. _You_ came to find me. And earlier tonight _you_ came here and stormed out. And then _you_ came back. I try to keep my distance. I try to accept it when you push me away. I get that this is complicated. But....” she pauses, trying to catch her breath, realizing her superficial anger is slowly subsiding, that her true sadness is revealing itself. “Why do you always come back?” It comes out as a plea. She takes a breath, watches him, and waits.

Frank finally looks up at her, his face soft, eyes unable to hide their sorrow. He clenches his jaw and relaxes it again, taking his time to choose the right words. “You know why I come back,” he says in his quiet gravelly voice. He slowly stands up and finally faces Karen. He looks at her, eyes shifting to gather every detail of her face. Eyes piercing blue, cheeks flushed, lips full, a dark pink. He looks down and then turns towards her window.

She watches him as he moves to pull the curtain. “Frank…wait,” she calls out, “It’s late, it’s cold. You were already out there tonight, you…you need some rest. You can sleep on the bed, I’ll take the couch. Just…stay.” Again, she feels like she is pleading, but she doesn’t want him to go. Frank stands at the window, he could see the snow piling up outside. He knows he should go, get out quick. But she has a hold on him. She asked him to stay.

“I’ll take the couch” he says flatly. Without looking at her he moves to the couch and sits down. He doesn’t bother to take his boots off. He lays down, one arm behind his head and shuts his eyes. Karen let out a soft sigh of relief. She moves to her own bed and grabs a pillow. She walks over to Frank and says, “Here, take this.” He opens one eye, looks at the pillow, grabs it and places it under his head.

Karen moves to her nightstand, shuts off her light, and curls into bed. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, she could make out the silhouette of Frank lying on her couch. She follows the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“Frank?” she speaks into the darkness. She hears him shift, and then, after what seemed like too long, he grunts, “Hm?”

“Your flashbacks…do they happen often?” She hears him shift again. A long pause. “Yeah.” She is quiet. Thinking about him, seeing his family die over and over again. It breaks her heart.

“I’m sorry.” She turns on her side, settles deeper into her bed. and closes her eyes.

Frank lays on the couch, eyes open. He could hear her breathing, soft and slow. After everything he put her through, after calling her a mistake, she still shows him kindness. She still cares, no matter what he does. He doesn’t deserve it. He shuts his eyes, hoping for a few hours of peace.

Karen wakes up the following morning. She turns towards the couch and sees that it is empty. She slowly sits up and looks around. Frank is gone. Her apartment is empty once again. She can’t help but feel empty too. She gets out of bed, walks to the couch and picks up the pillow. She turns to put it back on her bed but then notices a folded piece of paper on her kitchen table. In small, scratchy letters, “Karen” is written on it.

She unfolds the note and reads,

“Had to leave early. Thanks for letting me crash. Sorry for all the trouble.

                                                                                                           -F”

Karen closes the note and smiles to herself. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.


End file.
